


Wanted (dead or alive)

by southofwinter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Eventual Smut, M/M, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southofwinter/pseuds/southofwinter
Summary: The first person to really make an impact in Shiro's life was a kid he found on the street.The same kid he meets ten years later during a train robbery.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Wanted (dead or alive)

**Author's Note:**

> a little slowburnish? backstory first. i dont know how many chapters. honestly i wrote this just for a distraction to things and want to see how people like it
> 
> yes there will be more chapters, archive is just being an asshole and wont let me put it

Life never seemed to show any act of mercy for Shiro.

  
  


He remembered losing his arm and his parents before he turned fifteen. An accident with a carriage crash, he remembers the feeling of being thrown from his seat and the pain on the bridge of his nose, the blood that drips down his face and leaves the taste of copper in his mouth.

  
  


He awoke to the dull scent of alcohol under his nose. The line of pain still runs along his skin when he wrinkles his nose to sniff, but pales in comparison when he sees exactly what he lost. 

  
  


What was left of his arm laid a stump, wrapped tightly in bandages to keep from bleeding, but still the dark red peeks through the fabric to haunt him. He can hear voices, although it all sounds like his head is underwater. The first thing he hears properly when a doctor enters the room is the words _I’m sorry._ It all felt like a dream, vision swimming as his head drops back against the poorly stuffed pillows, and his eyes only open when he feels the weight of the bed dip beside him.

  
  


Shiro couldn’t smell him, and if he had any energy left in him, he may have lamented the fact that he may never be able to properly scent someone again. “Shiro.” The voice murmurs against the blankets, light brown hair ruffled and fanning his face as the stranger rubs his face in the sheets.

  
  


_Ah,_ Shiro notices when the head lifts and he’s met with a tear stained face, it was Matt. The holts had been wonderful friends to his family for years, and he doesn’t doubt that the loss would surely affect them as well. He doesn’t have the time to wonder where his parents are, he doesn’t ask, and although it’s left unspoken, Shiro still knows.

  
  


_Hey, Matt_. He wants to say, but his throat feels tight and his tongue is dry, and no words could possibly leave his mouth in that moment. He had a sad alpha in his bed, and even without the ability to smell him, his instinct is to let out a deep rumble of a purr in an attempt to comfort him. Matt only laughs, a broken sound, as he sits up and reaches to take his hand-- he stops, when he realizes that there is nothing left to take --and rests his hand on his old friend’s shoulder.

  
  


“We’ll take care of you.” He swears, his smile so small and fragile that he knows it just might break, but Shiro can barely keep his eyes open. He catches sight of Matt’s parents at the doorway, Colleen hiding her tears behind a handkerchief while she holds back their youngest, Katie, from climbing into bed with them.

He’s thankful, and yet no words can be spoken. His eyes feel heavy and his broken purrs die down, but he knows he’ll be okay as he falls asleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Shiro owed much to the Holt family. They had cared for him since the loss of his parents, and kept him happy and busy enough to keep from falling into a dark place. They were hesitant to give him any work, as were anyone in town that looked at him and noticed his scars, but keeping him busy kept him happy.

  
  


“I’m gonna make you an arm someday, Shiro.” Matt’s voice carries from the back of the stables as he scoops a pile of manure into a barrel, having complained almost the whole way, and Shiro watches as he brushes their mare. Black was a wonderful horse that had once belonged to his family, but like Shiro, had become part of the Holts. They never dared to take her from him, but he appreciated the responsibity of having her as his own, even if it wasn’t in name.

  
  


“How?” He asks, stilling the grooming of the horse until she lets out a whine, impatient, and ready to get back to her roaming. He apologizes to the mare, patting her neck before he goes back to combing through her fur, not realizing when Matt vaults over the gate to join him until there’s company joining him on the other side of his stead.

  
  


“I don’t know _how_ yet.” Matt sighs, pulling a brush from it’s place on the wall before he situates himself to Black’s other side, complaining softly under his breath as he grooms her. “I just know I will. I swear it.”

  
  


Matt was smart, and kind. The Holt’s didn’t know how to talk to Shiro about his loss, and as a result, never spoke of it. Katie was told not to ask questions, and Matt was sworn to not say a word of what might upset him. Since the accident, Shiro had been told that he had lost most of his scent. A blessing in disguise, he thought to himself, but a hard thing to manage for a family that knew their way around people by scent.

  
  


With the mare freshly brushed, he set aside the tools with a sigh, giving the horse a pat on her flank before sending her back out into the pen to go about her business, and Shiro offers a small smile as he pulls his friend closer to lean against his shoulder.

  
  
  


“I know, Matt.” He sighs, ignoring the sting to the side of his head when the alpha tries to lean into him and only succeeds in slightly knocking their heads together. “I know.”

  
  


* * *

The first time the two boys were allowed into town by themselves was at age eighteen. The Holt’s small farm kept them above water, but the season had started to pass for crops, and the family wasn’t known much for their skills away from livestock.

  
  


“Now Matthew,” Sam spoke with an authority that could only be found from the alpha of the house, but he held a fond tone amongst his warning as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “If you lose Shiro, don’t bother coming back home.” 

The words cause a snort to come from Shiro, something he was sure to be scolded for being inappropriate for by Colleen, but only finds the amused face of his foster father as Matt wrinkles his nose in a show of being overdramatic. “You’d think he would favor his eldest child.” Matt sighs, taking Shiro by the bicep and dragging him out the door.

  
  


* * *

In Matt’s defense, he was good at many things, but not with horses.

  
  


“D’you think we should have taken the wagon instead?” Shiro calls over the angry hoof stomps from the stallion that carries Matt, tossing his head back in annoyance when he tries to give a praising pat on the neck to the creature.

  
  


“You’re both bastards.” His voice calls from beside him, squeezing his thighs around the horse in an attempt to keep as steady as possible, gripping the reins as if he was afraid of being bucked from the horse at any minute. Shiro feels greatful to have such a wonderful horse, freeing the reins from his grasp and trusting Black to follow the right path, stroking along her mane before he reaches into the side satchel to feed her a sugarcube, feeling a smirk tug at the corner of his lips when an offended gasp comes from his side.

  
  


“Race you?” Shiro asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before his grip is once again on the reins and he’s urging her into a gallop, feeling the warm desert air blowing on his cheeks as he takes off, leaving someone who once thought of him as a best friend behind in the dust.

  
  


* * *

Shiro had learned over time that it was best to leave business to the Alpha’s. A stupid thing, of course, but he never had the right way about it. Once, he might have been able to get away with it, even if the stores may have offered him less than kind words or attempted to up the price as if he knew no better and couldn’t read or speak a word. After his accident, people were afraid to look at him. White had started to bleed through his hair overtime, overtaking most of the black that naturally crowned his head, and the number of scars on his body left many questions to be answered wherever he went. Even without the knowledge that he was an Omega, most either feared him for what he could have done or what bad omens he might bring.

  
  


The sun had started to set by the time they arrived in town, with how long it took Matt to stop fighting with his horse to not be thrown off, and Shiro sat to enjoy the fading warmth that framed his cheeks as the old wooden boards croaked under his weight. The sound of shouts caught his attention, along with the knowledge that nearing nighttime, not many people roamed the streets. He catches sight of one couple at the end of the road, but if they were to hear it, they show no interest in investigating. Standing from his spot on the general store’s porch, he leaves behind the horses that don’t bother to give him another look, and finds a group of young boys kicking at _something_.

  
  


“ _Hey_.” Shiro’s voice came out in a growl, rumbling deep in his chest as he stares down the young alphas that startle at a figure approaching them. The leader of the group, a young boy with brown hair and determined eyes, puffs up his chest in a poor way of showing dominance, and Shiro can only breathe out a huff of a laugh. 

  
  


“I'm not afraid of you!” He rumbled, his voice still shaking lightly, as if he hadn't even developed enough for a proper growl. “You’re just an omega!”

  
  


A kid with a strong sense of smell or one who made an incredibly good guess, he isn’t quite sure, raising a brow as he kneels to see the kid that barely stands up to his waist, and he _knows_ he’s always been big for an omega, lavishes in it even as the kid winces and seems to want to back down.

  
  


“Ever seen an Omega’s fangs?” He asks the young teen, who doesn’t answer, and responds by opening his mouth to show his display of teeth, fangs large and sharp and deadly, daring the little asshole to even try touching them. 

  
  


“They’re made for ripping out Alpha’s throats.”

  
  


Shiro wasn't the type to ever take pride in scaring anyone, especially a group of boys who could be no older than fifteen years old, but can’t help the feeling that settles in his chest when the leader lets out a squeak and runs off as fast as his feet can take him, leaving behind what other they might have had on them, his friends scattering with him.

  
  


He found often that young alphas amused themselves on whatever poor thing they could take their aggression out on. Most times Shiro would find a poor stray dog that they had taken a beating to, but once the dust clears, he finds himself surprised to see that it’s a _boy_. Around their age, but curled up, he appears small, very small. The sniff he hears is the only implication that the boy was a living thing, his arms slowly falling away from where they wrapped around his legs to protect himself from any incoming blows.

  
  


“Hey.” Shiro calls to him softly, and doesn’t miss how the boy flinches, oddly colored yet _beautiful_ Indigo eyes that almost shine in the falling dark stare back at him. “Are you alright?”

  
  


The kid doesn’t answer, not until he sniffs once more and Shiro approaches, kneeling beside him and gently wiping away the blood that drips from his battered nose.

  
  


His face is covered in dirt and scratches, scuff marks and old bruises that started to heal underneath the grime and blood, and the boy brings his sleeve up to wipe away the fluid dripping from his nose, and it makes Shiro cringe. “Is it okay to touch you?” Shiro asks softly, and the boy watches him, but doesn’t make a move or say a word, and Shiro can only think for a moment that he might be mute. When he brings his hand forward and doesn’t receive a snap of teeth or notice him pulling away, he gently combs tangled black hair from his forehead and removes the handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away at his face.

  
  


“They really messed you up.” Shiro’s voice is soft and almost teasing, although he doesn’t receive any kind of amusement from the kid, sighing as he takes the canteen thats strapped around his hip and pops the cap open with his mouth, the boy watching carefully at those sharp teeth before he pours a bit of water on his face.

  
  


The most reaction he had gotten from the kid was a surprised cough and splutter when the water splashes his face, holding back a bit of a laugh as the small kid squirms and moves to rub his face clean on his sleeves, but Shiro stops him in favor of cleaning up the cuts and dirt with his handkerchief.

  
  


“I’m sorry. Just trying to clean these up. Have a drink.” He offers, the canteen laying back in his lap as he gently wipes away at his nose until it seems to no longer be bleeding, rubbing a cut clean before the small hands slowly reach for the canteen and end up snatching it from his lap, drinking down the water quickly enough that it spills from the sides of his lips and he nearly chokes on it.

  
  


“Easy, I’m not going to take it from you.”

  
  


The boy glances at him once he slows his gulping, eyes watching carefully as he takes small drinks until the canteen is nearly empty, and he has to be stopped from wiping off his split lip with his dirty sleeve once more. Shiro notices the way the young boy’s body tenses when he moves too close, but upon standing up, he finds the hand gripping tightly at the ankle of his worn jeans. He doesn’t speak, but he looks at Shiro with a determined look in his eye, and doesn’t seem intent on letting go.

  
  


“I’ll come right back.” He promises, and turns the corner to find his horse. Sparing a glance to the general store as he rummages through the satchel on Black, he catches a glimpse of Matt, filling his satchel with medicines absentmindedly while he leans over the counter, appearing smitten with the owner’s daughter that resides behind the counter. The omega wonders just how long he has before Matt is thrown out on his ass, and finds an apple from the satchel before he can witness it happen.

  
  


The boy is still sitting in the same place when Shiro comes back, but his eyes catch from the kind stranger’s expression and to what he has to offer.

  
  


“I thought you might be hungry.”

  
  


The offer of kindness has the boy slightly deflating, yet he still reaches his hand out to grab onto the fruit and sinks his teeth into it like a rabid animal, the juice of the apple dirtying his mouth, and he makes a small unpleasant sound when it stings the cut on his lip, but continues to devour it anyway.

  
  


Shiro isn’t quite sure why he stays, but he does. He sits and waits beside the kid until he’s finished with his apple and tosses the remains into the dirt, but doesn’t move to leave, and simply stays there, staring at the wall.

  
  


“Keith.” He says softly, earning Shiro’s attention, the first word he hears from this strangers mouth. “Keith?” He asks, and earns the slow nod of his head that has his matted black hair bobbing in his face.

  
  


“My name.”

  
  


Oh.

  
  


Shiro doesn’t ask Keith where he came from. He’s sure that it isn’t a pleasant story, and if he asks where his parents may be, it could very well dig up old wounds. From the state that his clothes are in, ripped and covered in dirt, and the way he seems so small must have meant he had no home, or at least not a good one.

  
  


“How old are you, Keith?”

  
  


Keith seems to pause for a minute, chewing lightly on his lip as he looks up at the fading sun, feels the breeze in his cheeks and seems to finally make a decision.

  
  


“Fourteen.”

  
  


Shiro can’t help but wince. He had grown up rather odd for an omega, a bit too tall, too strong, too broad, but he knows that Keith is small for his age, no matter what he is. He doesn’t try to ask or figure it out, not until Keith shifts and he’s nearly buried in his neck, nose wrinkled as he sniffs at Shiro. The smell he catches from Keith is soft, and it must be because of his poor sense of smell, because he’s sure he would have smelled the kid a mile away otherwise. He appears to not have had a bath in some time, and even though covered in dirt and sweat and blood, he can still smell a bit of something underneath it all.

  
  


Alpha.

  
  


A small Alpha, his scent soft and subtle underneath all of the mess on him, and even with his dull sense of smell, Shiro thinks he hasn’t presented yet. He furrows his brows, wondering just how much time Keith spent on his own that he’s so small, hasn’t properly presented yet, and to be a young alpha out on his own. He doesn’t have the thoughts to move away or scold Keith for trying to scent him before he pulls away.

“You _are_ an omega.” He says softly, almost surprised, as he leans back and falls backwards into the dirt, watching with careful eyes.

  
  
  


“I am.” Shiro says softly, and holds out his hand to Keith, aware of the way his lips twitch, as if he’s ready to bare his teeth and snarl at the stranger, but there’s something about him that pauses and lets Shiro take his hand and inspect it.

  
  
  


“Ma was an omega.” Keith speaks again, eyes downcast as Shiro looks over him, and he realizes _ah, he must not like other alphas._ He doesn’t blame the kid, not with how fragile he looks, how he himself witnessed the brutality of young alphas that had presented and had no place to store their anger and need for dominance. Shiro lets him speak, but doesn’t notice just how close he is until there’s a weight at his side leaning on him, and Keith’s face is tucked carefully into his neck.

  
  


Whether he planned to or not, Keith had started to fall asleep. He only realizes his mistake and jumps away in surprise when the bell of the general store rings, and Matt calls out for Shiro. Keith lets out a heavy huff, moving away and taking deep breaths of the evening air, as if he was trying to clear the unintentional scenting from his nose, and he turns his head away when Shiro stands and brushes off his jeans.

  
  


“Shiro.” Keith says simply, echoing what he heard from his friend, and seems ready to turn and go about his day, his face stricken as if he’s shaming himself for becoming so lax around a stranger.

  
  


“Yeah.” Shiro offers a small smile, and grabs at his jean pocket before he takes out a small pocket watch, watching Keith’s curious and skeptical eyes as he hands it to him, unsure what to do with the object.

  
  


“I’ll come back tomorrow.” He says with a small smile, and turns around to find Matt, but he can still feel watchful eyes at his back.

  
  


“Where’d you run off to?” Matt wonders when he sees his friend again, any worry drained from his face when he sees that he’s okay, and if all else, his life would no longer be on the line. “Nowhere.” Shiro replies, grabbing onto the side of Black’s saddle before he hoists himself up and over her back, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches his friend. “Worried I’ll steal your woman?” He asks, tilting his head in the direction of the store window where the girl sits comfortably inside, and Matt only lets out huff as his cheeks burn red. “Fuck off, Shiro.”

* * *

The ride back was quiet, the light of the moon guiding their path as they took their time back, although Matt may have insisted on going a little faster- he had hoped to get home before the food was cold -but doesn’t protest when Shiro simply says he needs the time to think.

  
  


“Hey.” Came the voice beside him, snapping Shiro from his thoughts as he turns his gaze off the path, away from his horse and catching on the worried expression of his brother. “You okay?” He asks gently, and Shiro knows he’s sincere, with the way he urges his horse to ride closer to him and the way he studies his face as they ride. Shiro can’t help but smile a little, feeling better than he had in a while, and hums.

  
  


“I’m just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on twitter @southofwinter


End file.
